Elegance
by wren2
Summary: A young seer is forsaken by his patrons, and cast aside. What's to become of him, and what is going to happen? || Warnings : AU, future yaoi, yuri .. an' others for individual chapters
1. Prologue — `` One Dark Stormy Night. ``

Author's Ramblings:  
  
Erm, after getting somewhat lost in the fanfiction at Blue Roses, I figured, "What th' hell? Why don't I write a 13x4? I mean . it's not like I can get addicted to 'nother pairing." Riiight. Wrong. I'm addicted to 13x4 now, thank-you-very-much. Not that it's easy finding any fanfiction on that pairing. It . truly is a rare thing. Anyway, this is a 13x4, the characters aren't mine, an' I'm not making any money off'a this; however, I do claim my insanity, an' that's about it.  
  
By the way, it's AU. Muwahaha. :: Cough. Cough. :: Anyway, the warnings aren't too bad. It will be a dark gothic sort of AU story (hopefully), with yaoi, angst, drama . other warnings that pop up. Yay.  
  
Elegance - Prologue  
  
By Serenthian  
  
`` One Dark Stormy Night. ``  
  
Torn asunder, the youthful blond urged the horse to drive faster. The whip in his hand cracked against the back of the brilliant beast trying to get it to move faster than humanly possible, and maybe, if it could move faster than humanly possible, it could get it away from what was after him.  
  
But that was not to be, and he was not to escape what was after him. Destiny and Fate had turned their cold shoulders on the blond, and his very existence. They would have, if you will, rather seen him forgotten and forsaken, than anything else. After all, Destiny and Fate were two cold- hearted beings that you did not what to mess with, and he had - by pure accident, really.  
  
The storm clouds over his head thundered loudly, not giving him the smallest reprieve from the onslaught of rain and lightening. There wasn't a thing he could do about it, and that, in its self, disgusted him. The carriage that he was driving was slowing him down, even if he continued to crack the whip across the horse's back, and make him move faster. There was only one option left, and it was what he knew would occur. That was his curse, after all, to know the future, to be a seer - the joy of it all, and the disgust. Only this time was different, and the future had been clouded, it meant that not even his patrons would converse with him now, and bless him with their gifts. He was, in truth, so very screwed.  
  
The clothing he wore battled against the wind, as a shrill cry reached his ears. That was it, and it was closer than before. With fluid grace, the young man tossed himself from the carriage seat, and onto the horse's back. He nearly slipped off because of the rain-slicked coat, but a tight grip on the mane kept him on. Settling himself as best he could, and wrapping his legs around the horse's middle, he leaned to unhook the beast from the carriage quickly. Hands quickly did their best to untie the knots and restraints which kept the horse bound to the carriage, and after getting his own hands lost in the bindings a couple of times, he did. The horse was free from the carriage, and he was free to get away from what was after him.  
  
Pulling himself upright on the horse, he got a better grip on the mane, and leaned his body as close as he could. He was hiding himself against the beast's back, in hopes of avoiding the whipping rain, and perhaps, the being that was chasing after him. He pressed his face against the horse's neck, a soft whisper of his voice pleading to the animal that he would help him to escape, an apology for whipping the horse, and finally a prayer to whoever had not forsaken him yet to protect him, and grant him safe passage away from his stalker.  
  
The storm seemed to have answered that prayer, even if it was only pity, and the rain that beat against the man's back halted for the moment. Dark storm clouds parted for a moment, and a brief glimmer of moonlight was cast down upon the horse and it's rider. Blond tresses matted against the man's forehead, as he turned his head to look back from where he came. The howl of the wind interfering with him listening for anything that remotely sounded like the cry of his tracker. One hand removed itself from the horse's mane and brushed back his soaked hair from his face, and another glance back to was given. He had to know if he was still be hunted, or if the rain had deterred it.  
  
It was funny. He was a seer, and yet, he knew nothing of his own future. Small tidbits of events always came to him, but never a true glimpse of his future. After all, a seer was meant to serve his patrons, and do so willingly without any knowledge of what was to become of him. To have even seen glimpses of things that were to happen to him made him incredibly privileged. But now, he was without that now, all he could see in the future was mist and fog, the faint outline of a figure that he knew nothing of. That was his last vision, and that had been only two nights previous, before he had known that something was wrong, and that he needed to leave. Immediately. Somehow he was lucky to have been blessed with intuition, as well as being blessed with Sight.  
  
Things weren't right to him at the moment, and tired cerulean eyes glanced up to the moon as the storm clouds once again covered its pale elegance back up with stormy gray. He then gave one last glance over his shoulder, hoping to see that nothing was there, but he knew something was. Pressing his face against the mane of the horse once more, and digging his heels into the horse's side, he urged him on faster as the rain once again started to fall down upon him in torrents.  
  
And then something strange occurred. The horse stopped, it didn't buck, or neigh in fear, it just stopped, its movements halted. The young blond tried to force the horse to move, but he did not. A sigh of near defeat escaped his lips, as he lifted his head to look to the dark forest road in front of him, but there was nothing there to see. He shook his head, and turned to look to the back, from which he came, and still saw nothing. The rain was just too much, and with the horse not moving, he did not know what to expect next. With a grunt of acceptance, he hopped off the horse's back, and onto the murky ground below.  
  
His hands pulled at his clothing, trying to warm himself, but to no avail. Stepping away from the horse, he moved to its head, and to see what had caused it to stop in it's tracks. Cerulean eyes met the glassed over deep brown ones of the horse. They were unblinking in all the rain, and the look that was being reflected from the beast showed fear. As if it had been scared into paralysis, or even death. The young man's hand lifted from his side and petted the muzzle of the beast gently, despite the rain that was beating him down.  
  
"You did good, boy. Thank you." He murmured softly, and laid his head against the beast's neck. It was a goodbye of sorts, because this probably would be the last time that he laid eyes on the horse. Slowly stepping back from the horse, and then turning around, he looked up to the stormy clouds above, and shivered slightly. It was still coming, but he knew nothing else besides that. Tearing his line of vision from the sky above him, he looked down the road before him, and broke into an all out run away from the horse.  
  
He didn't pause to look back; he barely even looked ahead of him. He just wanted to outrun what was after him - which was all he desired. He legs carried him as best they could, and propelled him through murky earth, and pelting rain. He would do his best to get away, even if it might be hopeless.  
  
A bolt of lightening streaked across the sky, illuminating everything in an eerie light for a moment. The man's figure was hazed by the rain, and seemed smaller than he truly was as he dashed down the road. He kept his vision on the road, but every now and then he'd look down to clear away the rain from his eyes - or attempt it. And in that one of those times that he looked down, he had been caught. His legs sent him careening into the cloaked figure of his stalker. The hoarse breathing of the being startling the young man as he fell to the ground with a sickening gurgled thud.  
  
The storm seem to have lessened somewhat as the cloaked figure leaned down to the young man. Hastily the blond scrambled backwards, trying to use his legs to push himself away from his stalker, but that did not deter the being. He walked with ease towards the youth, not letting him go from his hidden vision.  
  
"Blessed be Fate and Destiny," the blond spoke loudly, "I did nothing to deserve this. I only did as they bid, and nothing more." His voice was shaken, but strong. He would not show weakness, but he could not hide his fear. The being canted his hooded head to the side, and then shook his head.  
  
"Sleep." A low voice called to the blond, and a hand was waved in his direction. A few blinks of cerulean eyes occurred, but eyelids began to droop in sleep, and eventually they did, and the blonde fell back onto the muddy earth, and was unconscious.  
  
The cloaked being leaned down to the ground and scooped the blond into his arms. It's head lifted to look at the still stormy sky before disappearing down the forest road. It had gotten what it had seen, and that was all that mattered to it. Its job had been done, and in his arms slept a young Seer.  
  
In the distance, however, a shrill cry filled the air. Something had been denied it's hunt, and it was not happy. 


	2. Chapter One — `` Bittersweet Dreams and ...

Author's Ramblings:  
  
Well, I got out the next chapter! So enjoy! It's still pretty interesting, I guess, but that's it. There's a bit of gore later on, but the same warnings apply. Gothic supernatural fic, with a twist of fantasy, and just a touch of horror at the moment, but if there's anything missing, don't hesitate to tell me. Erm, I haven't looked that closely at it ... but I'm not that bad with writing, so yah ...  
  
Elegance - Chapter One  
  
By Serenthian  
  
`` Bittersweet Dreams and Fleeting Reality. ``  
  
"Little brother ." A soft hand touched an all most deathly pale face, and then pulled back leaving the face alone, and allowing for rest to come. Yet rest never came for the restless, and that was all too true for the young man that twisted in his black bed sheets, surrounded by all the finery of a regal upbringing. Even if he was an outcast in his own family, and pushed under the carpet for no one to know the truth about.  
  
After all, who would actually want a child that could see the future, and be able to see your demise? Not anyone that he was related too, well, all except for his sister who accepted him as who he was, and not the Seer.  
  
He tossed in his bed covers, eyes shut tightly, trying to block something from his mind, but it came anyway. A strangled cry escaped his lips, but it wasn't loud enough to disturb his sister who sat in the chair next to his bed, keeping a vigil on her brother. Time seemed to flow together as the night moved on, dark shadows of the past praying upon the weaker, and newborn light of the future. The candles that let eerie light flood upon the constantly dreary room were the only witness to the sorrow of the play that unveiled itself in there.  
  
Another cry escaped thin cracked lips, as one hand was pressed against closed eyes trying to blot out the dreams that kept coming to him. His sister, in keeping her vigil, laid a cool cloth against her brother's fevered forehead. It wasn't fair to him to have to live like this. He had been forced into an existence that she wouldn't want anyone to live in, and particularly now, it had gotten worse. The visions he kept having were becoming more and more powerful, and were interfering with his very life.  
  
Of course, it was those visions that demanded he was given the title of Seer. He had, in his younger years, been a normal boy with all the typical growth spurts, tantrums, joys, and pains, but after he turned ten that had all changed. The visions had started to come, and with such frequency that he began to talk of them, and say things would happen before they would. It had startled the boy's father, along with his other sisters, but to that one sister that understood him, it didn't.  
  
He did, after all, inherit the sight from his mother, and very few knew that she had ever had it, except for his dear sister. That was why she stuck so close to him, even after he had been seemingly lost to his father as a child. After all, the young man had to cater to the patrons of his gifts, and no one denied Fate and Destiny - no one at all.  
  
So he had been sent away to one of the smaller houses that the family owned, and was left to his own accord. He was to live his life out as a Seer, and listened to those that came to seek his gifts, hoping that somehow he would have the answer for them. That answer that he had for some was not what they wanted to hear, but he told it regardless. After all, what he was told to say, had to be said, and there was no arguing about it.  
  
It was in this life that he was trapped, and with no hope of escape. He would have to live out his years as a man doomed to know the darkness, or light, of the future to come, and no one truly wanted to be blessed with that -- but he was.  
  
His sister, in all her years, pitied her younger brother, but also admired him for his strength. Regardless of his extra gifts he had lived a good life, even if the end was coming. The visions were tearing his mind apart bit by bit, and there was nothing to do to stop it. If it was to be, then there was no stopping it.  
  
She hovered by his bedside, doing her best to keep his fever in check, and removing his hand from his face. He, as of late, always tried to claw at his eyes, most likely in attempt to stop the visions. Tonight must have brought a bad one, because as soon as she moved his hand away from his face it instantly went back to his face, and covering his eyes. Slim fingers were trying, attempting, to stop the pictures that they were seeing, but they still came.  
  
"Make it stop!" His sister fell back at the harsh howl of his voice, as he suddenly sat upright in his bed. The dark covers twisted around his form, confining him. The young man clawed at the covers trying to get out of them, trying to escape the dying effects of his dreams and visions, but it wasn't working. He was too gone with the fever for any of his endeavors to have worked.  
  
"Go away," he said, his voice still harsh, but obviously drained. He fell back upon the covers of his bed, and was immediately tended upon by his sister who was at his side.  
  
"Little brother, shhhh, it will be okay." She crawled up onto the large bed with him, and gingerly urged him into her arms to hold. He didn't do so easily, but was eventually pulled into her warm embrace. Cerulean eyes were wide with fright, but also glazed over to prove that he was still stuck in a trance.  
  
"Iria." The young man's voice came out as a small whisper as he fell into her grasp with a tired sigh of defeat, the last moments of his vision dying out ever so slowly. His body was relaxing as his sister soothed his body, and cradled him in her arms, just like a mother would've done to her own babe.  
  
"I'm here, Quatre, I'm here." She placed a gentle kiss upon his head, and pulled him closer to her. She wanted nothing else than to protect her brother, even though she knew it was a futile thing to do. She felt her younger brother turn his head, and hide his face against her chest, trying to forget. There was nothing that Iria could do, and the both of them knew it.  
  
A small sob was lifted towards her ears as the blond turned up to look at her, cerulean eyes filled with tears. "But you see, you won't be," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. At that, he buried his face against her, and cried, leaving his loving sister all too shocked.  
  
~  
  
"Today, we are here to put to rest a beloved sister, and caring friend, Iria Winner." The priest continued on his sermon, eyes glancing about the masses, but - more importantly - a young Quatre Winner, who stood, emotionless, in the front of the small congregation. It was a pity that he had lost his sister to a break in, but now, he had nothing left. And even the priest had to pity the young man, with all his powers to see the future, had not been able to save his sister. He had been forbidden by his patrons - it would've broken a taboo of theirs.  
  
The priest moved his eyes away from the young man, and continued on with the eulogy.  
  
It was sometime later that everyone had gone back to their lives, and left Quatre alone at the new grave of his sister. The blonde looked more somber than ever, dressed in his normal black attire, the suit he wore the style of the archaic time, but also of his mood. He kneeled down in front of the small grave marker, and leaned his head against it, willing tears to come to his face. He wanted to cry for his sister, and her death.  
  
But no tears came to him, and none would. He had none left to cry; because they had come the night that he had foreseen her death, among other things. The small marker, a cross, had been engraved with her name only a few hours ago, and then set up to be laid to rest with her in the cemetery. He lifted his hand from the side, and used his fingers to trace her name, storing away memories of her in his mind far away from the darkness of his visions.  
  
There was one silent sigh from his lips, as he moved to stand up from the freshly turned earth. Straightening his posture, and pulling at his clothing, he closed his eyes. A silent plea went to the heavens that they would take his life now, and let him have his peace, but he knew it was not going to be answered, and that was truly sad.  
  
One last glance went to the grave, and it's marker, before he leaned down and placed a small kiss upon the cold stone. It was one last reminder of the love he held in his heart for his beloved sister. She was, after all, a mother to him.  
  
Turning away from the grave, he walked up the path of the cemetery, ignoring the desolation of the bare trees, and the harsh wind that howled as it pushed through their branches. He gave a lingering glance up to the dirty gray sky, and then climbed into the dark carriage that was waiting for him. Dully he leaned back against the cushioned seats, and called to the driver to drive him home, where only loneliness awaited him.  
  
~  
  
Quatre stood on the cliff's face, the wind whipping about him, and trying to coax him from not proceeding to move forward, but unable to stop him from doing so. His face was etched with a harsh indifference to what was going on about it, only remotely caring about what was ahead of him. This was not a normal place where he was, because it was where everything began, and everything would end.  
  
This was the place that he received his visions -- the dream world that was in between the waking and the sleeping worlds.  
  
"Tell me why," he cried out to the chasm of the cliffs below, "tell me why she had to die, why I had to know that it was going to occur!" He waved his hands in the air in fury. The wind whipped around him, causing blond hair to flow about him as if it was some sort of halo.  
  
"Because it was suppose to happen, " came that soft whisper of one of his patrons, "you needed to know, and it had to occur." The detached voiced stressed it's words by using the wind to push the young blond back some upon the cliff's top.  
  
"I don't believe you! What's the point of knowing what's to come if I can't try to change it!" Quatre hissed out between a tightly clenched jaw, and thin pressed lips. He pushed forward the cliff's edge, and was held back by the wind. If he were to step over the edge, then maybe that would end it all.  
  
"You don't seem to understand, young one, you are our voice. You must do as we say, and tell them what the future holds for them, but never try to change it!" The wind whistled against his ears, and tried to push him back once more, but it failed. When determined, nothing could fight against the human will.  
  
"No! I will not do as you say! Never again! If I'm to have these visions of the morrow, then I will try to change it! You can't stop me!" He pressed forward, and then the wind halted completely. Everything had gone silent, and the rocky cliffs loomed ahead of him.  
  
"Child, dear child of our gifts, listen to our words." Quatre turned at that, twisting his body to glance to see if the voice was as close as it seemed to be. He looked behind him, but saw nothing as mist rolled in.  
  
"Listen to what?" He spoke, voice softening slightly, and looked around. Abruptly the mist swirled around him, and clung to his body like a second skin. That feeling of being detached from his body heightened, and he fell to his knees. It was like them to speak to him with pictures as their words, but try as he could, there was no way to fight this vision from coming.  
  
And it hit him like the force of a tornado tossing a piece of wood through brick. It was powerful, and all too much.  
  
Fog. A figure. Laughing. A shrill cry in the air. The rain, the coldness, the earth slick with rain. The glowing eyes of something not quite human looming over the dead body of a blond figure. A hiss in the air as the being moved from the body, and then stalked after something else that it was supposed to kill. Then the fog came back, and a figured called to him.  
  
The call went unheard to Quatre's ears, as he slowly realized that the beast, being, whatever it was, would be after him, if he didn't do as he was bid. Slowly a fear for his very life snuck into his soul. He couldn't die, no, he couldn't! It would do an injustice to his sister who had lived her life to make sure had one! He had to do his duty.  
  
With a shaken faith, and a resolve, he stood. He had been subdued for the time, and humbled by the voice of his patrons.  
  
"Tell me, and it shall be done." He said, his voice quiet and soft.  
  
"Listen to us, and obey." The wind licked around the young man's prone body, and he shivered, but stood his ground.  
  
"As you wish." A defeated look fell upon his face, but his eyes were still fighting.  
  
~  
  
"I've got to go!" He hissed through clenched teeth at the butler who had stumbled upon his master rummaging though a trunk, and pulling some clothes out for himself.  
  
"But, young master, it's raining too hard outside! You can't go!" He leaned to touch Quatre, but was stopped when a cold cerulean glare settled upon him.  
  
"Fate and Destiny are not pleased, and I don't know why, but they will have me killed." He turned back to the trunk, and tossed some of the clothes he had into a small bag that he had beside him. The butler only mutely nodded, and stepped away from young man. If he were to leave, then he would call a carriage for him.  
  
The bag had been packed, and Quatre leaned against the door of his home. The visions had stopped, and he couldn't see anything anymore. But, that last vision had been of himself, obviously, and was probably not what they had intended for him to see. Yet he had seen it, regardless, and intuition told him that he needed to leave - immediately.  
  
"I'm obeying them, and yet this is happening?" He muttered to himself, as the butler held the door open for him to exit to the outside through. The carriage had been pulled up, and the door was opened for him to enter by the footman.  
  
As he approached the coach, he turned to look the butler, and his home once more. But that was not what met him. What met him were the glowing eyes of the beast, as it leapt down from a balcony of the building, and upon the butler. A sadistic grin slid upon that marred beast's face, and looked to Quatre so smug. The hunter was pleased, as it had all ready caught it's prey.  
  
It took pride as it had Quatre's attention, as it ripped out the throat of the butler with an animalistic scream of pleasure. It turned its eyes away from the blond, and licked at the blood coming from the dying body of the butler. It so enjoyed this, the pleasure, the bloodlust, the endless possibilities of torturing his prey.  
  
Cerulean eyes could not be torn away from the being as it advanced upon him, and then with its abilities it leapt at him.  
  
~  
  
A scream tore through the air of the small building, and the cloaked figured rushed into one of the bedrooms to glance at the young man he had found. A woman was tending to him, as he screamed, and the cloaked figure pulled down his hood, endless onyx eyes glaring at her.  
  
"Woman! Make him be quiet! Or I will kill him myself!" He hissed at her, and moved to the side of the bed. If only this young man knew the trouble he was truly in, he would quiet himself. 


End file.
